


The Wire Mother

by PepperF



Series: Diego whump [6]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Whumptober 2020, sorry Diego
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26857762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperF/pseuds/PepperF
Summary: "Number Two, your attachment to Grace is irrational." Sir Reginald Hargreeves paused, frowning down at the boy's bowed head. "I intend to break you of such bad habits."
Series: Diego whump [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951318
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	The Wire Mother

**Author's Note:**

> I felt bad just writing this fic. But it's Whumptober! I had to do something horrible to him, right?! ...Sorry, Diego.
> 
> Note that this is psychological abuse (within the scope of what we've seen in canon), and NOT sexual abuse. 
> 
> Thanks again to Bethany for beta-reading. :)

"Number Two, your attachment to Grace is irrational." Sir Reginald Hargreeves paused, frowning down at the boy's bowed head. "I intend to break you of such bad habits."

"But—" objected Number Two.

"No buts. You will only interact with Grace during her general household tasks from now on. Am I understood?"

There was a long pause, in which the boy's training warred with the rebellious nature that Sir Reginald had been trying his best to harness.

"Yes, sir," he muttered, finally. 

"Good. You are dismissed."

\---

From the personal records of Sir Reginald Hargreeves, C.B.E.:

_Number Two's attachment to Grace is proving most obdurate and inconvenient, and he has repeatedly broken the rules I have laid down around their interactions. I have, of course, instructed Grace that she is not to indulge the boy's infractions, nor to encourage his dependence. However, this has not deterred him from seeking her out under the most flimsy of pretexts, and, as her primary programming (below that of loyalty to my orders, of course) is to assist humans with whatever they might require, she has been unable to sufficiently brush him off._

_As infants, all the children naturally clung to their caregivers. The others have successfully moved past these attachments by now; but Number Two always displayed an excess of emotion whenever one of his nannies departed or was dismissed, and appears to be unable to progress beyond such childish behaviour. After the unfortunate incidents with Number Seven's nannies, and the consequent introduction of Grace, I had—naively!—assumed that a side-benefit would be the children's reduced inclination to attach themselves to one who was a mere 'rude mechanical'._

_However, after an initial period of sullen distrust, Number Two once again became notably fond of one who was simply there to provide his meals and healthcare, one who—aside from the obvious complexity of my wonderful design—was no more human than a toaster oven or vacuum cleaner. He may even be more fond of Grace: she is much less destructible than a human nanny, and therefore the children have correctly deduced that she is to be retained indefinitely._

_As my verbal orders have proven insufficient, I am forced to employ more stringent measures to curb these recidivist tendencies._

\---

Following Sir Reginald's orders, Grace becomes like a ghost in the house. She makes breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but does not serve it; she cleans and tidies, but only when the children are asleep; she does everything necessary for the smooth running of the household, but only at times of day when she won't be discovered. Unfortunately, she is simply too useful, too necessary, for this arrangement to be effective. The children are forever acquiring injuries that require her urgent assistance, or causing chaos around the house that must be immediately rectified. Number Two still sees her all the time, and still does his best to maximize every opportunity he is given to interact with her.

So, instead, Sir Reginald tries to separate Number Two. His training is shifted to mealtimes, and he is given his food later, by Pogo, who also tends to any injuries he causes himself. He is only allowed to spend his spare time in his room or the garden, from whence it is simpler to banish Grace. This works for a while, and the child becomes more malleable, even subdued—but it has an adverse effect on his integration with the children as a team. When he is trained with the others, they spend more time squabbling than they do learning.

Sir Reginald decides to take a more practical approach to demonstrate Grace's lack of humanity, and perhaps to cure Number Two's nonsensical devotion. 

"No, no, no, stop, please, _please!_ You're hurting her!"

"She feels nothing, Number Two," snaps Sir Reginald, holding the flame closer to Grace's hand. "Do you, Grace?"

"Nothing at all," she smiles, and turns to the child with a look that could—understandably—be misinterpreted as sympathetic. "It's okay, Diego," she says, in the soft, soothing tones with which he had programmed her.

But the child will not see reason. He cries, he begs, he tries to pull her away, or to interpose himself between Grace and Sir Reginald... The demonstration eventually has to be curtailed when Number Two turns upon his father with irrational rage, kicking and even biting, like a tiny savage. Sir Reginald, uncharacteristically put out, retreats and leaves Number Two to throw his arms around Grace's knees and bury his face in her skirts, sobbing as though his foolish heart was broken.

All in all, it does not have the desired effect.

\---

From the personal records of Sir Reginald Hargreeves, C.B.E.:

_All attempts to remove Number Two from Grace's orbit, and she from his, have met with limited success. The child now understands that to spend time with her will result in what he views as punishment, and so has self-limited their interactions—at least within my purview—but I do not feel he has absorbed the intended lesson, namely that Grace is not real._

_However, this now appears to be adversely affecting his other work. The boy is listless and distracted; he refuses to pay attention in class, and his combat work has fallen behind that of his siblings. His appetite at mealtimes appears reduced, and he spends most of his free time in daydreaming, gazing vaguely at the wall or floor. Pogo tells me that the boy has become subject to night terrors. I am almost concerned—_

"Your tea, Sir Reginald."

Sir Reginald looks up, and gives his companion a brisk nod. "Thank you, Pogo."

Pogo busies himself in arranging the teapot, the hot water, takes his time in pouring out the refreshment into the fine Sèvres porcelain cup, adding milk, and selecting a single cube of sugar with the tongs. When he has busied himself in arranging the two small biscuits on a plate for a long minute, Sir Reginald sits back and folds his arms.

"Out with it."

Pogo looks up. "It's about the boy. Number Two," he adds, almost unnecessarily. They both know which boy is preoccupying Sir Reginald's every waking moment these days. "Have you decided what to do next?"

Sir Reginald presses his lips together in annoyance—not at Pogo, but at the situation. "No," he admits. "Try as I might, I cannot seem to break this foolish attachment!"

Pogo stirs the tea, and passes over the cup. And then—unusual, but not entirely unheard-of—pours one for himself, and settles into the chair at the opposite side of the desk. "Have you considered..." And then, irritatingly, he pauses.

"Considered what?" If Pogo has some great insight, then he should share it!

"Getting rid of Grace?"

"Certainly not!" snaps Sir Reginald, immediately. Pogo looks up, and Sir Reginald doesn't appreciate the knowing twinkle of those eyes. "It would not be convenient," he adds, stiffly. "Besides, I will not bend my will to that of a small child's."

"Ah," nods Pogo. 

They sip in silence for a while. "What do you mean by 'ah'?" asks Sir Reginald, at last.

"Well, if you are not willing to get rid of Grace, perhaps the easiest path would be simply to permit the boy's attachment to her? After all, weighed against the all the work you are putting into addressing this issue, it would seem less..." He seems to consider his choice of word carefully, "inconvenient."

Sir Reginald considers this. It has been taking up a great deal of his time and attention lately, it's true—time that could be far better spent on more important things. "You think I should give in to the whims of a child?"

"I think that, in the grand scheme of things, the boy's natural affection for Grace is not so terrible," says Pogo, with a small smile. "After all, I have grown quite fond of her myself."

Sir Reginald eyes Pogo, looking to see whether he is being mocked—but if so, it is gently. "Very well," he sighs. "Will you tell Grace? And the boy, too, I suppose. Make it clear that this is not a concession to be repeated—"

"I will manage his expectations appropriately," Pogo assures him. "Thank you, Sir Reginald." And with a dignified nod, he gathers up the tea things and departs.

Sir Reginald frowns down at the last few lines in his journal, and crosses them out decisively. "Children," he mutters to himself.


End file.
